“You look tired,” I say instead.
“I am.” He sighs. “I need a shower, then you in my bed, so I can sleep.”
“Tracker—”
“Why don’t you leave some clothes here? Just a few things. Makes sense, right?” he continues, finishing up his food, then resting the plate on the couch. He lifts his arms, waiting for me to move closer to him.
Sliding over, I rest my head on his chest and sigh. My body relaxes immediately and I feel at peace. “What are we doing here, Tracker?”
“I’m taking what I want,” he says, nuzzling my head. “And you, you’re taking a chance.”
That really does sum it all up.
“Do I get a kiss?” he asks quietly. “Because I really fuckin’ want one, Lana.”
I squint an eye at him, raising a brow, as though I’m weighing my options.
“Lana . . .” he growls playfully, making me smile.
Shyly, I lift my head up, giving him access.
With a hand on either side of my face, he leans down, his lips gently touching mine at first, then becoming deeper. With a swipe of his tongue, I open my mouth, letting him inside. Tilting his head, he takes control of the kiss, his body pushing me back into the cold leather of the couch. When he finally pulls away, he kisses my lips once more before studying me through heavy-lidded eyes.
“After that kiss, are you still gonna try telling me you aren’t mine?” he rasps, lips quirking at the corners. “Because you felt like mine, melting for me like that.”
It frustrates me that he always has to make me face everything when I’m happy to just pretend I don’t have feelings for him and this is just a casual thing. Having to face reality means I have to make a proper decision, and I just don’t feel ready. I’m so afraid.
I make a soft sound of frustration. “You want me to admit it? Fine. I’m crazy about you. Inescapably, obsessively—”
He cuts off my embarrassing rant with his mouth.
I don’t complain.
He then lifts me in his arms and carries me to his room, placing me gently in the center of the bed.
“Don’t move,” he softly commands.
Wide-eyed, I sit there and watch as he disappears into the bathroom. The shower turns on, and soon I can see steam trying to escape from the door. My body fills with anticipation. When he walks out in nothing but a towel—and drops the towel on the floor—I can only imagine the expression on my face.
Shock. Lust. Want.
Drool?
His cock is thick, pierced, and beautiful. That’s how I would have described it if I were writing about it. He’s huge. And apparently not shy.
“Ummm.”
“I like to sleep naked,” he says, grinning wolfishly. “Since you admitted how you felt, I get to show you me without having to worry about you running scared. Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow with you.”
“Wait, what?” I mumble, still staring at his penis.
“My eyes are up here,” he says huskily. “Unless you want to fuck now? Because I’d be okay with that.”
My eyes narrow. “Think I’ll pass.”
I’m not ready just yet. I don’t know why, but I feel like I need to know Tracker a little more before we sleep together. “That’s what I thought,” he replies, sounding amused. “I need to sleep.”
“It’s only six p.m.”
He slides in next to me and wraps me in his arms. “Been riding all day, baby, and didn’t sleep much last night.”
I run my hands through his hair. “Go to sleep, then.”
He sighs contently as I play with his hair, which by the way, is nicer than mine.
When I know for sure he’s asleep, I slowly get off the bed, grab my handbag, and leave his room, closing the door softly. I hear laughter as I walk by the game room, so I curiously peek my head in to see Rake and Irish playing pool. There are two women standing next to them, dressed in short shorts and their bras.
“I guess Faye and Clover must have left,” I say when Rake notices me.
He laughs. “Yeah, they’re gone. You wanna play some pool?”
“It’s strip pool,” Irish adds, winking at me. “Sure as fuck hope you’re a bad player.”
Rake laughs again, slapping Irish on his arm. “You want to die, man? She’s Tracker’s. And no offense, Lana, but you’re like family, so I don’t wanna see that shit.”
I roll my eyes at that.
Irish nods. “Tracker claim her?”
“In the process,” Rake adds, sitting down on one of the stools. One of the women drops in his lap, wrapping her arm around him possessively.
“Yeah, I’m just gonna go now,” I say, waving ’bye and making a quick exit.
I’m at my car door when I hear her voice.
“He’s going to get sick of you,” Allie says in a calm tone. “It’s not you he wants.”
“And I suppose he wants you, then?” I ask in a dry tone.
She smiles sadly. “Actually, no. But it’s not me who’s going to end up hurt.”
“You need to move on, Allie,” I tell her.
She raises her eyebrow. “I remember you, you know. Took me a while to place you. But yeah, I remember you.” She laughs, a cold sound. “William, now Tracker. Have a thing for my sloppy seconds, do you? This isn’t high school, Lana. Taking Tracker is going to have a completely different consequence than taking William did.”
So she finally remembered me from school.
My mind flashes back to the first time I met Allie, which was eight years ago.
Is he smiling at me?
I look around me, behind me, but no one else is there.
He is smiling at me.
Fidgeting nervously, I push my long black hair back behind my ear and smile tentatively. I’ve been waiting what feels like forever for William to notice me. I’ve had a crush on him since I first saw him, our freshman year of high school. Four years later and this is the first time he’s smiled at me.
I’m not usually a girl who gets noticed. I’m not popular and I never put myself out there, so people tend to just walk by me without a second glance. I know William was dating the head cheerleader, but I heard a rumor that they broke up. Maybe it’s true? My best friend, Anna, always says that William isn’t worth my time. But Anna isn’t here now—she moved away and left me to get through senior year without her. It sucks, big-time. I don’t find it easy to make new friends—most people mistake my shyness for something else. They think I’m a snob. But I’m not. I just find it hard to connect with other people. Maybe it’s because I’m shy—or maybe it runs deeper.
Oh my god. He’s walking toward me. My heart is beating so fast I worry he can hear it.
“Hey, Lana,” William says, sitting down next to me. I am all alone in the library, working on a creative-writing assignment for my English class.
“Hi,” I squeak, clearing my throat and risking a glance at him.
He smiles, something flashing in his eyes. “You look pretty today.”
My eyes widen. That isn’t something I ever expected to hear out of his mouth. While I know I’m not unattractive, I’m also nothing exceptional. Especially compared to the stunning, curvy, blue-eyed blondes he usually goes for. “Oh. Umm. Thank you.”
He leans forward, and I don’t stop him.
This is like a fantasy come true.
His lips graze my cheek before he whispers in my ear. “Do you want to come for a drive with me?”
“Wh-where to?” I ask, swallowing hard.
He pulls back, shrugging as he runs his hand through his messy brown hair. “I was thinking of going to the beach. Weather is good.”
“Oh, umm,” I look down at my assignment, which really needs to be done, but this is the William Dean. “Okay.”
I collect my things and stand up. When he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him, a thought occurs to me. “Wait, what about your girlfriend?”
He suddenly looks amused. “Old news, babe. We broke up. Now are
we going or what?”
I nod and let him take my hand in his.
Anna isn’t going to believe this!
* * *
The next morning, with a huge smile on my face, I walk to my locker with an extra spring in my step. Yesterday, William had kissed me. He’d tried to go a little further, but I told him I wasn’t ready yet. He seemed frustrated but agreed, stopping his wandering hands and concentrated on just kissing me.
It was my first real kiss. Games and dares don’t count.
Today, he is going to take me out again.
Stopping at my locker, I drop my bag to the floor.
What the hell?
Someone has written the word whore in black marker. Underneath it, the words home wrecker are written. I am confused. And hurt. I double-check that this is indeed my locker. I mean, I’m a virgin with no dating record. How the hell can I be a whore? I am pretty sure I was one of the last few virgins in the whole damn school.
A throat clears behind me, an impatient noise.
“Thought you could steal my boyfriend away, did you?”
I turn to face William’s ex-girlfriend, flanked by two of her friends. Does she still think she is his? He’d told me in detail yesterday about how they weren’t together anymore, how he was single and interested in me.
“He said you two b-broke up,” I whisper.
What is she going to do to me? It isn’t my fault that they had broken up; she can’t hold it against me.
“We didn’t. We’re practically engaged,” she sneers, flashing me a plain, cheap-looking ring. “And you knew it. Everyone knew it. We usually ignore you because we think you’re a loser, but now, Lana, I’m going to make sure the rest of your life is a living hell.”
With that parting shot, she storms off, her two friends trailing behind her like loyal servants.
They are still together.
He lied to me.
He thought I’d be easy. He thought I’d sleep with him on that beach, and he liked the idea of being able to tell everyone he’d had sex with a virgin, but I had refused him.
And I know she’ll keep her word. She will make my life a living hell. I can see exactly how it will play out. No one will want to cross her, so everyone will ignore me, not wanting to replace me as her number one enemy.
In that moment, as I watch her and her friends strutting down the hall, I know I’m doomed to spend my senior year alone, lost in my books, my studies and writing. William won’t care that he made me a social outcast. He’ll just go back to ignoring my existence.
I wish Anna would come back. She is strong. If I had her, I wouldn’t need anyone else.
I have learned many important lessons in such a short amount of time.
Number one. Men can’t be trusted.
Number two. Sometimes you have to learn to enjoy your own company.
And number three. I will never be vulnerable again. I won’t let people make me feel insecure and like less of a person because of their own cruelty and small-mindedness.
In that moment, the soft, nervous girl I was just minutes before developed a core of steel.
Sure, people will still call me a nerd.
But I’m more like Supergirl, because underneath these glasses is a woman no one wants to mess with.
I shake my head, staring at Allie, coming back to the present.
“Don’t threaten me, Allie,” I snap. “You’re right, this isn’t high school. I’m not that girl anymore, but it looks like you are. You still think you’re the queen bitch and nothing can touch you. I let you bully me before, but I’m not fucking scared of you now. And it’s not me who takes your men. William came to me, and Tracker and you aren’t even together. If they really wanted you in the first place they wouldn’t have left.”
I hide my trembling hands, hating myself for the nasty words, but I want her to see I’m not weak anymore. I’m not going to let her or anyone else walk all over me.
She smirks. “Grew a backbone, did you? Don’t say I didn’t warn you about Tracker.”
“Yes, I grew a backbone,” I fire back. “I’m not scared of you, Allie. I can handle whatever you try to throw at me. Hell, I’ll even catch it and return it tenfold.”
Her face contorts. “We’ll see who has the last laugh in the end.”
She walks inside, and I drive home wondering what she’s talking about.
NINE
YOU left me,” Tracker says in annoyance when I open my door the next morning.
“Ummm, Tracker can we do this later?” I lower my voice. “My mom is here!”
“Good,” he says. “I can finally meet her.”
I shake my head frantically. “No, no, no—”
“Lana?” my mom calls out, walking to the door. “You must be Tracker.”
He holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I can see where Lana gets her beauty from.”
I roll my eyes. Yes, my mom is beautiful, but that is the oldest line in the book.
“Come in, Tracker,” she says, then turns to me. “Where are your manners, Lana? Invite him inside.”
“Thank you,” Tracker says politely, then flashes me a smirk. “So you’ve been talking about me, have you?”
Mom laughs softly. “She’s mentioned you a few times, yes. Can I get you something to drink? My name is Nicole, by the way.”
“Lovely name,” Tracker replies. “I’d love some water, if you don’t mind.”
“No problem, have a seat.”
Grabbing my hand, he leads me to the couch where we sat last time.
“Your mom is a babe,” he whispers. “Now I know how you’re gonna look when you’re older.”
I purse my lips. “She’s going to annoy me and ask me about you every day now!”
He kisses my palm. “Good, then you’ll never forget me.”
I expel a sigh. “You’re something else, you know that?”
His mouth twitches. “Saturday night we’re having a party. Men from the other Wind Dragon chapters will be coming, their old ladies. That sort of thing. Do you wanna come?”
I shift in my seat. “Ummm. Will Anna be there?”
He nods. “Yeah, they’ll all be there.”
“All right then, I’ll come.”
“Good,” he replies.
My mom returns with water and iced tea, then sits down with us and starts to ask Tracker questions.
“So what do you do for a living, Tracker?”
I look at him and wait for his answer.
“I’m a part owner of a bar called Rift. You might have heard of it. I also part own a motorcycle repair shop.”
He clears his throat. “And a few other businesses.”
Yeah, like Toxic, the local strip club.
“What other businesses?” I ask innocently, keeping a straight face.
“Oh, you know, this and that,” he replies vaguely, shooting me a look that clearly says Be quiet.
“That’s wonderful,” my mom beams. “Especially for someone so young. You’re in your midtwenties right? Same as Lana.”
Tracker nods. “Yes, I am.”
“How lovely,” my mom says, taking a sip of her tea. “Lana never brings boys to the house. In fact, you’re the first one, so you must be someone special.”
I cringe.
Did she have to let that one slip?
“I didn’t exactly bring him here,” I point out.
My mom waves her hand. “Semantics. Well, I have to get to the hospital for my shift. You two have fun.”
She kisses my cheek, then does the same to Tracker before leaving.
Leaning back on the couch, he grins. “She loves me.”
“At least someone does,” I mutter, making him laugh. “You never talk about your parents. Do you have siblings?”
“My dad died a couple years back. My mom’s remarried and lives overseas,” he says. “No brothers or sisters.”
“Sorry to hear about your dad,” I say.
“What about your dad?�
�� he asks, eyes steady on me.
I shrug, looking away. “I don’t have a father.”
Okay, I have a father; I just don’t have any contact with him. Seeing as he’s absent, I feel no need to give him any significance. Or even admit his existence.
“I mean, we don’t talk,” I add. “He’s never been in my life.”
“His loss,” Tracker says quickly. “Your mom did an amazing job raising you on her own.”
I duck my head. “Thanks.”
“You wanna change out of yet another fuckin’ cute pair of pajamas and spend the day with me?”
I look down at my pink shorts and matching top. They were covered in red cherries. “I have work, remember?”
He flashes me a slow spreading smile. “You have the day off. Jess is watching Clover.”
“You got me the day off?” I ask, surprised.
“Yep,” he says, smirking. “Faye loves me. She said it’s no problem.”
The sneaky man. “What did you have in mind?”
“A long ride. Lunch. A swim at the beach,” he suggests. “Who fuckin’ knows where we’ll end up?”
I smile. “All right.”
“Good,” he says in a gentler tone. “Now give me a kiss and go get ready.”
I do as the man says.
* * *
“So are you and Tracker dating?” Anna asks as she paints her toenails black. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Lana.”
“I know,” I whisper, looking down at my own red toenails. “I didn’t want to give him the chance to hurt me but, he’s . . . you know.”
“Tracker?”
I grin. “I can’t seem to say no to him. It’s something I obviously need to work on.”
Anna smirks. “You sleep with him yet?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“Good plan. Make him work for it,” Anna says, wiggling her toes. “He’s too charming for his own good sometimes.”
“He invited me here on Saturday,” I tell her. “What do I wear?”
Anna smirks. “Most of the women wear as close to nothing as they can get. But just wear whatever you’re comfortable in. I usually wear tight jeans and a top. You can wear a dress if you want. Anything goes.”
Tracker's End Page 8
